


hollow spaces

by vomara



Series: Breaking Bad Powers AU [1]
Category: Breaking Bad
Genre: Body Horror, Episode: s04e03 Open House, Gen, Mental Health Issues, Supernatural Elements, Superpowers, it's jesse's fucked up meth party y'all
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-24
Updated: 2019-07-24
Packaged: 2020-07-12 19:34:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,084
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19951681
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vomara/pseuds/vomara
Summary: The man’s been staring at him for the past fifteen minutes. Leaning against the wall of the stairs, his eyes lidded with fatigue, just watching as Jesse snubs cigarettes on the wall. Like every other junkie in the room, passed out along the floor, glazed faces incognizant of their surroundings. Listless, beady eyes like corpses -- Jesse wonders if he should spread out his yellow sheets on the ground and lay right beside them.This man, though. Staring almost in awe, like he’s watching some fucked up car wreck happen right before his very eyes. It gives Jesse the creeps, what the hell.---Flipping his house into a crack shack works wonders to distract Jesse. But it brings unwanted encounters, too.





	hollow spaces

**Author's Note:**

> so this is it. i finally give light to the rabid brainstorming that i've been doing non-stop on the brba discord. i'm like a fucking feral animal that never shuts up on there. always got too much shit to say all the time, so i'm sorry @ the people who deal with my message spamming! who know who you are, so know that i love you and i dedicate this disasterpiece to you...
> 
> here's the quick details on this au. i'll probably post more in the series description later, but for now, this'll suffice. basically, in this au, people have two powers -- one that they're born with, and the other which develops as an adult (usually between 20 - 40 years of age) due to circumstance. it's a weird superpower au, basically. don't ask why i thought brba was suitable for it. it all occurs as another layer to the brba canon, basically. anyway, this piece (which was SUPPOSED to be a drabble but SOMEONE can't shut up) concerns jesse's adult/secondary power -- it's developing, and he himself doesn't exactly realize it yet. chronologically, it's just a little peek into "open house" and jesse's meth party.
> 
> this is completely un'betad and written in a 2 am haze, so pardon any mistakes.

The man’s been staring at him for the past fifteen minutes. Leaning against the wall of the stairs, his eyes lidded with fatigue, just watching as Jesse snubs cigarettes on the wall. Like every other junkie in the room, passed out along the floor, glazed faces incognizant of their surroundings. Listless, beady eyes like corpses -- Jesse wonders if he should spread out his yellow sheets on the ground and lay right beside them.

This man, though. Staring almost in awe, like he’s watching some fucked up car wreck happen right before his very eyes. It gives Jesse the creeps, what the hell.

“So the government is holding out on us, you know? They’ve got this mountain under the Sierra Nevada and it’s full of uranium and you know what they do with uranium, right? They, like, make weapons with it, what I’m saying is that the president keeps his drones in the mountain and the mountain is empty. And all those trains go over the mountain and have no idea that the thing is hollow and that it could collapse and they’re being stuffed full of radioactive alpha rays…”

The tweaker keeps going on and Jesse’s almost impressed, as impressed as he can be after hours of shooting stimulation straight into his veins. Meth like his, his and Mr. White’s, now that’s the fucking shit. Keeps a man crazy for days. Makes him never stop being crazy, batshit, screaming off the walls, checked into a madhouse for the rest of his life, completely fuckin’ insane. He has a fistful of the blue right in his coat pocket, he could throw it at the methheads and watch them scrabble over their comatose friends for another hit. Without fail, they’d do it, predictable each and every time.

He wonders if the man watching him would dive for the meth too, his eyes dropping away from Jesse’s face to the bags of meth on the ground. Snort it off his fist, pupils dilated and frenzied in moments, thrown into a storm of dancing, oblivious druggies as Jesse cranks the music loud enough to shatter eardrums.

A cough snaps Jesse out of his reverie, and his gaze wanders back to the guy again. His dark hair is shaggy, oily and uncut, his young face pockmarked with necrotic lesions. Disgusting, but not unlike the rest of the half-lives Jesse’s let into his home. After all, they’re his company now.

The man blinks languidly, pale eyes fixated on Jesse. “I’ll be gone in the morning. Or maybe in a few hours. You can never tell out here.” He shifts against the wall, leaning his head against the drying graffiti.

Jesse’s fist uncurls as he shuffles his cigarette from one palm to the other. “So? Come back again tomorrow, there’s plenty of this where it came from.” Jesse gestures casually to the party in his living room. “And bring some more of your friends, loser, else you’ll be tweaking alone.”

“I’m not tweaking,” the guy replies, grabbing at his forearm, his sleeve rising up just a bit.

Jesse scowls at the track marks along the man’s arm. “If smack’s your thing, I ain’t gonna give it to you. Get it on your own time, bitch, I ain’t holdin’ any here.”

The man’s eyes are glazed over, his mind staring into a dream, or a fantasy, or whatever he’s seeing when he looks at Jesse. “Haven’t been high in years. You know how I miss it here?”

“Ha, you shitting me?” Jesse drops the cigarette stub on the ground. “Those track marks of yours are recent.”

The guy frowns. “No, it’s been years. I’m certain of it.”

“Look,” Jesse starts. “I don’t gotta know what exactly you’re shooting up, or you’re still doing it. But if you’re that out of it, I’ll get you a cab and we can call it a day, okay man? Or I’ll get you some narcan, if it gets that bad, I got some upstairs.” He’d rather not have an overdose on his hands.

“I already told you, I’ll be gone soon,” the man says, his stare finally dropping to the ground beneath his feet. “I’ll be fine, I’ll be somewhere else.”

“As long as that somewhere ain’t the afterlife, I’ll tolerate it,” Jesse responds.

The man’s eyes flicker back up to meet Jesse’s again and  _ fuck _ , they’re so blue, like the shadows on those glaciers they show on the Discovery Channel. The lesions on his cheeks distort as he twists his face into a vile grin. “Mama told me that before all this. You’re too late for that.”

Jesse stomach turns, and for a moment, Jesse considers running to the bathroom to vomit up his stale pizza. Even if he had to shove his fingers down the back of his throat to get it all out of stomach, he’d do it. The lesions looked worse than he thought they were, stretched across the man’s face, blistering and bleeding with every muscle contortion. In his eight years dealing with severe drug addicts, Jesse doesn’t think he’s seen heroin blisters quite like this. He looks away quickly, grimacing. “Whatever, man. Just… finish up here whenever, okay? And don’t bother coming back, I don’t want to see you checked out in the living room again.”

The grin fades back into something resembling normal. “That’s fine by me. Never loved the parties anyway.”

“Great,” Jesse says hurriedly, walking away from him. “I’ll see you never.”

He makes his way down the rest of the stairs to the speakers, slamming the knobs carelessly. “C’mon, get up, everybody!” He grabs the bags of meth within his coat and throws them at the bodies.

The bass rushes the room, EDM beats rousing everyone from their slumbers. A chick blinks blearily before spotting a teenth on the ground and then -- it’s like watching rabid animals. Pack hunting hyenas, crawling all over each other in a frenzy to snatch at the rotting corpse meat. And like that, the party’s starting once again, the lights and music blurring out the edges of his vision until all goes to black.

Hours later, Jesse stumbles away from the crowd, dragging his feet up the stairs.. At the top, he halts for a minute, and looks back down the stairwell. The man’s gone. Almost like he was never there. There’s not even a stain where his head was resting against the drying paint.

It’s not till Jesse hits his sheets when he realizes he never saw the man leave.

**Author's Note:**

> please review! i thrive off attention, like a peacock. let me preen my feathers for you, babey


End file.
